Kaegan. Appearing when no one else did. Watching from the shadows. Protecting without asking. Who was he? Why hide?
The healer left and I remained alone.
As always. Cycles ago, the two wolves would have run to me for the smallest wound.
I remembered the cycle in which I twisted my ankle during a clan trek. Alden had reached me first, lifted me without question and carried me down the mountain.
“You are not just anyone,” he had said that night, pressing cold herbs to my ankle. “You are my mate. I will always come first.”
He kissed my brow. I believed him.
Draven, too, once crept into my chamber when fever took me. He stayed until moonfall, feeding me broth, distracting me with old tales.
“Luna,” he whispered, brushing my hair back, “even if the pack turns on you, I will not.”
They brought me sunflowers. Alden said they matched my smile. Draven once carved a rune-charm for me, swearing to add to it every cycle we stayed close.
“You will never be alone,” he promised, looping his finger with mine.
But now, they ran to Selene.
She coughed and they wrapped her in furs. She sneezed and they brewed herbs. I lay bruised in the sanctum, heartbroken, bond torn.
No flowers. No charms. No comfort.